


Albion Awaits

by leftdragonpainter



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arthur Pendragon Returns, BAMF Merlin, Canon Compliant, M/M, Magic, Malfunctioning Magic, Shopping, Slow Burn, bearded Merlin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-06 02:00:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10322948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leftdragonpainter/pseuds/leftdragonpainter
Summary: Merlin has waited for the return of his King. When the fate of the world is held in the balance, more desperate than ever before, magic returns and with it the one who can stop the danger that awaits.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Canon through the show ending. This is mainly my idea of Arthur returning. I also HC that the Merlin universe is like Earth-5 or something. Like diet dr pepper. Close but a little off.  
> Been rewatching Merlin and needed to get this out so no regular posting planned.  
> Hope you enjoy all the same!  
> Also I found a recent pic of Colin with longer hair and a beard. That's how I picture Merlin in this.  
> Comments and Kudos and yada yada yada  
> Gabi  
> <3<3<3

 

_In a land of Sherlock and Doctor Who, and a time of Netflix, the fate of the world rests on the shoulders of a very, very, very old man. His name? Merlin._

 

Merlin was ancient despite the fact that he looked all of twenty-five currently. Most of the time he donned his long-bearded homeless old man glamour as he went by the name of Emrys. But since the popularity of some books and movies he constantly was being called out for something called _cosplay Dumbledore_ or _Gandalf_. While he may have enjoyed both series when he had read them, he was far older and far more powerful than either of those simpering wizards.

Though he did get a slight kick out of being mentioned in the popular series.

Over the centuries he had seen the rise and fall of empires, nations, and languages. He had witnessed the persecution of magic more times than he thought possible. In the middle ages it had gotten to the point he had begun to believe that all magic would indeed fall into legend, the same way as ancient gods had fallen into being nothing more than myth.

But over the last fifty years or so people had started to believe in magic once again. They had begun to remember ancient, lost ways. It may have been fairy tales and pretend and make believe to most but to the few who truly believed and recognized its existence strengthened the magic of the world. With that belief, ancient power had begun to awaken. Merlin could feel it fluctuating through the air, could feel it reviving the power that which had been lying dormant within him for centuries.

He felt stronger than he had in longer than he cared to admit. Stronger and more powerful, akin to how he had felt back when he was at his strongest, when Arthur was still alive.

Even millennia later, Merlin could still recall with perfect clarity every nuance of his friend, his King. The blond hair, and roll of his eyes when Merlin did something he thought foolish. The look of disbelief when Merlin had dared to call the king’s son a dollop-head or clot pole. The joy on his face when he had pelted Merlin with rotten tomatoes. How utterly ridiculous he had looked dressed as a simpleton in the midst of battle. The sadness that had come over him after the passing of his father, Uther. Merlin grew pensive as he stirred his tea, remembering more than a thousand other moments that had occurred.

He glanced around his small cottage. It was covered wall to wall in books, ancient to new, deep philosophical volumes to the latest best seller to cheesy dime store paperbacks. All read and covers well worn from multiple readings. He sighed, settling back into the plush cushions of his floral patterned chair and closed his eyes. Though he did have modern convenience’s like electricity and indoor heating, he still preferred to sit by a well lit fire at the end of a day.

The fire crackled beside him as the wind picked up outside. His chimes rang out as the wind shifted down from the north. Soon the rain that the weatherman called for would begin to pound down on the gravel outside. Merlin smirked a little as he drifted off to sleep. Uther Pendragon would have definitely found weathermen to be magical prophets. Though their unreliability could be considered a good thing towards saving their life had it come to that. My how the times had changed.

*****

Not far away from the sleeping wizard, on a small isle set in the middle of a lake and ignored by most, magic stirred. The once majestic tower that stood in the center of the isle was barely noticeable over the tops of the forest surrounding it. Ancient and restless magic swirled in a whirlwind at the bottom of the crumbling tower as though stretching. As though the abstract of itself could recall what it once was, what it had long ago done for the world. Recalled what it desired to be again. It snapped angrily, accelerating, wanting to _BE_ once more. Golden threads of dust spiraled through the air twisting in the rain, stopping its fall on the center of land. The ground shifted, vibrating dirt, rocks and debris away. A deer a few feet away startled and sped off as a sudden loud _CRACK!_ split the earth. More magic slipped through the newly formed crack in space, white and pale blue and golden strands all converged before exploding in a hot burst of energy.

No mere mortal would have been able to see what was transpiring in the center of the island in the middle of an ancient lake.

Over a mile away, the wizard’s eyes snapped open fierce and dangerous. The fire beside him extinguished itself as an energy pulsed the cabin. He stood up, in a trance, his eyes glowing gold as he uttered one word:

_“Arthur.”_

*****

The man blinked his eyes open, turning his blond head away from the falling rain. Groaning, he rolled to sit up, long forgotten muscles protesting at the movement. Belatedly, Arthur stared at the hands in his lap, flexing the digits and frowned. He could feel an energy move through him, a power he had never before known.

Or perhaps he had known it, long ago. Known but forgotten.

Deep down he knew that time had past him by, that he had been gone long enough to fall to legend, to myth. Just like the tales of the ancients kings he had been told as a child in nursery. It was an unsettling feeling to say the least.

Thinking back, he recalled his last moments before falling to death’s embrace. The fight with Mordred, Morgana’s betrayal, a dragon lifting him in the air, Gaius tending his wounds. And Merlin…Merlin admitting he had had magic the entire time they had known each other.

Arthur sucked in a deep breath, waiting for the ancient feeling of being misled and betrayed by his closest servant, his closest and most trusted friend, to rise to the surface. But all that came was a feeling of loss. He knew not how or why he came to be back but he knew with certainty that all those he had known and cared for were forever gone; his knights, his queen, his subjects.

And Merlin.

Standing from the ground which was turning quickly into mud from the rain, he glanced down at himself. He wore little more than a white tunic and breeches, his bare feet sinking into the sludge beneath him. He looked around. The ruins to his left would provide little shelter in the storm. He would just have to search.

He began walking. And thinking. He knew he had died. He had felt it, felt the peace of settling behind the veil. How had he returned? How long had he been gone? He made his way through the brush, hearing the sounds of lapping water near. Merlin had joked, or so Arthur had assumed at the time, that he was the once and future king. As he continued down towards the waters edge, he frowned. Had Merlin know that this one day would happen?

With no answers in sight, Arthur continued on. He walked brusquely, he needed to get back to Camelot. Perhaps there he could find answers hidden away in the castle’s library. Arthur cursed as he stepped down on a sharp object, the jagged point piercing through his skin. His coordination failed him as he attempted to lift his foot to pull the offending shard out of his sole. Landing harshly on his bottom in the silt, he cursed again. He huffed as he yanked out what appeared to be dark brown glass, wincing at the squelching, sucking sound as it left the muscle. He wouldn’t be able to walk let alone swim across the lake with it bleeding like it was.

Tearing his sleeve away from the rest of his shirt, he sighed, wishing that Merlin was here to tend to this instead. Water dripped into his eyes as he worked. He ripped the cloth in half as an ache clenched his heart. It was a harsh realization. Merlin was long dead and Arthur was alone. He would have to somehow learn to live with that loss if he was to survive in this new land.

He got up, determined. He wasn’t going to let this new land defeat him in a matter of a few minutes after returning. Gingerly he set his foot back down, testing his weight on it. Air hissed out of his mouth at the pressure. It would need to be properly treated by the court physician or local healer.

The crunch of steps nearing behind alerted him of a strangers approach. Arthur turned and was immediately blinded by a great white light. He threw up an arm to block the small sun.

“Hello? You alright?” A deep male voice called out to him as the light lowered.

A memory tickled at the back of Arthur’s mind.

The man muttered under his breath as he approached. It sounded vaguely like “ _Course he’s not alright, idiot. He just came back from the dead._ ” Arthur studied the stranger as he stepped even closer, in spite of the spots now in his eyes. He wore garments the likes of which Arthur had never before seen. They would be less than useless in a battle. His trousers looked warm, but were tight to his legs from the water. The green tunic he wore seemed to repel the rain instead, and a part of it was pulled over the man’s head. All that Arthur could see of his face was the lower half, chin covered by a dark trimmed beard. Squinting, he saw that the other man had incredibly sharp cheekbones. What? Since when did he notice cheekbones, male cheekbones at that? Merlin had had nice cheekbones. Realizing that he still hadn’t answered the man’s question, Arthur shook his wayward thoughts away and spoke for the first time in centuries. “Of course I’m alright.”

The man was suddenly inches from him. Before the former king had a chance to recognize the face before him, the voice spoke again. “Really, Arthur? You’ve been back from the dead only how long and you’ve already injured yourself. No doubt you’re going to get sick as well from standing in this rain.”

He smiled widely, pushing back the top of the tunic. Arthur’s breath caught. _“Merlin.”_


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm American trying to write British so please forgive inaccuracies.  
> Pants don't equal underwear here.
> 
> Comments, kudos, and yada yada yada ya'll  
> Gabi  
> <3<3<3

Merlin set the kettle down on the stove, the cast iron of both clanging. Turning the burners on, he started the tea. He could feel Arthur's eyes following him across the room. It was that silent gaze that used to break even the strongest of his enemies, and cause the weakest of his knights to shake. The chipped plate before him remained untouched, the sandwich seeming a little sad in comparison to the feast he was once served. To be fair it had been a while since Merlin had gone on a food run to the store so there wasn't much on hand to serve. At Arthur's skeptical gaze, Merlin sighed. "It _is_ safe to eat, Arthur."

Blue eyes blinked, breaking his self-imposed trance. Arthur glance to the platter before him on the extremely low -and pointless- table. He had been unaware that Merlin had noticed his staring. There had been several unbelievable things he had been exposed to since Merlin had found him. A boat that moved itself not by magic according to Merlin but by a common power of some other kind. It seemed that much of this new world was run by it. He would have to practice not being shocked by it all, or rather terrified by it.

However, the most unbelievable thing so far had been Merlin himself. He had lifted Arthur easily into the boat as though the former king weighed no more than a child. This was not the weakling servant he had once known by any means. Not any longer. Though the Merlin he had known wasn't exactly the Merlin he had thought he had known. The whole time Merlin had been a sorcerer, and not just some foolish servant pent on annoying him. Arthur had barely enough time to come to acceptance of the truth before death had taken him. He had had no time to question Merlin of oh so many things. But now? Now he didn't know where to start.

Merlin had half carried him from the dock with a surprising show of strength. Arthur's foot was already turning red as infection set in. When he had told his former servant that he wouldn't be able to walk to the nearest village, the idiot had the nerve to laugh. That was when Merlin had explained the transportation they would take to his home.

The horseless carriage.

Frankly Arthur Pendragon, Knight of Camelot and King was afraid to admit how terrifying that had been for him to experience. But Merlin had insisted. To say that Arthur had been wary of the so-called 'automobile' was an understatement. He had to trust that his manservant wouldn't lead him astray. He hoped. At least it seemed to obey Merlin's guided commands.

Arthur Pendragon had once faced down a dragon without hesitation. He wouldn't let a car be the end of him.

When they had eventually arrived at Merlin's abode and the servant had removed his tunic to reveal that he wore only a blue undershirt with half-sleeves beneath, Arthur's breath had caught. He had not been expecting to see muscle on the man, nor had he anticipated his own reaction to the sight.

Pushing those thoughts aside was something he did remember doing. It hadn't been proper to gaze upon his servant in that manner. Especially not a male servant.

"Let's take care of that foot shall we?" Merlin grinned to hide his nervousness. He held a bowl of hot water and a towel in one hand, prepared to clean the wound. In the other was his first aid kit. He could still barely wrap his head around it. After so many, many years, Arthur was back. Sitting on the edge of the coffee table after moving the plate, Merlin opened the kit. He always left some anti-inflammatory pills inside for emergencies. Popping a few out of the bottle, he passed them to Arthur along with his tea. "Take these. They will help fight off the infection."

Arthur hesitated.

"You _can_ trust me Arthur. I would never hurt you." Merlin held out the pills. He felt relief when the other man gingerly picked them up then swallowed them down with the tea.

"Of course not. It's not as though you lied to me for over a decade. You were always completely honest and trustworthy to me," Arthur mocked. He lifted his chin, his gaze turning cold despite the light of the fire dancing in it. "All those times, when someone accused you of magic and I defended you... You were a sorcerer the whole time."

"I was. I am."

"Why not tell me the truth?"

"You know why Arthur." Merlin stood, pacing away. They had already had this conversation. Merlin had replayed it over and over in his mind since Arthur's death. It seemed that his King had forgot. "If I had admitted to my use of magic I would have been executed. Don't deny it."

"So instead you decided to live in the shadows. Working your magic in secret?" Arthur was angry, and hurt that his friend had to hide who he was. Angry that he felt he had to, that he had no other choice in the matter.

"It was the only way I could protect you!" Merlin shouted. His eyes flashed gold. The flames within the hearth exploded and the windows shattered.

Arthur flinched back at the burst of uncontrolled magic. He could practically taste the power of it in the air. If Arthur hadn't known better he would have likened it to Morgana's brand. But Merlin surely wouldn't have gone down that path. Not intentionally.

Merlin stood, back rigid as he took in his destruction.

"You've changed."

That was not what Merlin had expected Arthur to say in the aftermath of what he had done. His eyes lit up and the room returned to its original state. Glass solidified in the window frames, pages glued themselves into the spines of books. The fire that had died out reappeared, softer almost hesitant as it shifted in the hearth.

"You've been gone a _very_ long time Arthur. Did you really expect me not to?" Merlin turned his gaze to his old friend.

"No, I suppose not." Arthur answered in a small voice. Merlin noticed with a sigh as a shiver racked his body.

"Come on. I have some dry clothes you can wear for now. I'll show you to your room." Slipping his arms under the other man's, Merlin lifted him easily from the faded couch. They hobbled their way down the hall and up the narrow stairs. The burgundy wallpaper had seen better days, peeling along the seams of the baseboard. There were outlines, even more dingy and faded, marks left of when photographs once graced the walls. Now those same photos were packed away, in some box, in one of Merlin's many storage units. It had been over fifty years since he had bothered to replace them.

Arthur didn't command that Merlin dress him, though was surprised that his former servant told him to wait in the middle of the small bedroom. It smelled... _old_. That stale air that came when a room hadn't been touched in a very long time. He glanced around, curious about how his servant lived. There were no touches that he could really find of Merlin. Though there seemed to be an ongoing motif of flowers throughout the cottage. Arthur swiped a finger along the top of the dresser, leaving a clear line from the dust removed. He frowned.

"Here. It's not much. We can go into town tomorrow and find you something more suited to your tastes. Though I highly doubt that there will be any chainmail to be found at the local Harrods or Tesco." Merlin smirked. He held out a small pile of folded cloth to the still drenched blond.

Arthur arched a brow at the pile of what he could only assume would be his clothes. "And what _exactly_ do you expect me to do with those _Mer_ -lin?"

The sorcerer heaved his shoulders. "I am only going to tell you this once Arthur. I am no longer your servant. Right now, in this time? Men dress themselves. I'll help you this once because you aren't familiar with these. After this, you will have to fend for yourself."

He tossed the sweats he held to the bed before angrily jerking Arthur's tunic up over his head. The king shouted - _Be careful_ Mer _-lin!_ \- He had forgotten how much of a pain the servant had once been when it came to dressing him. For a more than a minute he stood naked in the room as Merlin took the garments he had been wearing elsewhere.

Merlin returned quietly to the room. Arthur's back was to him. He leaned heavily on the dresser, keeping pressure off his injured foot. Muscles flexed in his back, shifting beautifully under his skin. Merlin held his breath. How on earth was he supposed to handle his king being back?

Setting himself to the task at hand, Merlin eventually got the King dressed in a pair of his sweats. And Arthur, being Arthur, began to complain. He picked at the fabric of the pants. They were grey and worn in and certainly not anything the king would be used to surrounding himself with. "What exactly is this _Mer_ -lin? I grant you it is incredibly soft and warm but hardly fit for a king."

_Oh for the love of..._ Merlin pinched the bridge of his nose. "Arthur. Shut up. Be thankful and go to sleep."

Leaving no room for something to be thrown at his head, Merlin escaped from the room swiftly, slamming the door behind him.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos always appreciated :)  
> Gabi  
> <3<3<3

Merlin awoke at his usual time, bright and early at five in the morning, in spite of being up so late the night before. It was hard to break several century's worth of habit in one night after all. He crawled out of bed, stretching his worn and aching muscles. He jumped a few times, shaking off the remainder of sleep sticking to him. His dark hair was a knotted mess that he no doubt would bother with later. Changing into his joggers, he slipped on his hoodie and went downstairs.

Heavy mist greeted him as he slipped out the front door quietly. He didn't want to wake Arthur. Dawn had yet to break over the tree tops surrounding his cottage. He took a deep breath. He allowed it to fill his lungs a moment, almost savoring the cold that clenched his chest. Then he was off.

The run took him over an hour. He was pushing himself, pushing his limits. Limits that any mortal would have been shattered by. Since the moment that Arthur had appeared, Merlin had felt a significant increase of untapped energy course through him. Maybe it was adrenaline, maybe it was magic. All he knew for certain was that he needed to find some way to burn it off because if it was the latter there would be no telling what could potentially happen if left unchecked.

Sweat dripped down his face as he turned down the garden path that led back to the old stables turned garage. Merlin slowed his gait. He needed to calm himself. He knew he had scared his king the night before by his sudden burst of magic. He had scared himself in all honesty. Merlin had had full control of his powers for centuries, one of his last outbursts had been the reason his mother, Hunith had sent Merlin to Camelot in the first place.

Reaching the well cared-for stone building he entered, going over to the weapon rack he housed there. He paused, deciding which to train with. There were weapons of all kinds, some swords of every variation, and from multiple countries, housed here. Bypassing the metal swords his king would have chosen his eyes fell to an old favorite. He chose and grabbed what he had decided on. Feeling it's familiar weight bounce in his palms, Merlin was resolved. The long staff was evenly balanced in his hands, worn and well used. Most mornings he would train in more modern methods of martial arts. With as ancient as he was and how much he practiced, he was an expert in almost all of them. On occasion though he would feel a slight nostalgia and prefer to train the way he had watched Arthur train all those years ago.

Knowing that the man, his _king_ , was once again returned and at the moment sleeping the morning away in his guest bedroom caused Merlin's breath to catch. _Arthur was back_. It was all too much for him to wrap his heart around.

He planned on spending the next hour in his back garden training before waking his king. It was getting further along in the spring, the temperature rising quickly throughout the day. Stripping away his hoodie and sweat soaked t-shirt, Merlin began. The staff cracked through the air as he danced through the figures. Defensive, offensive, blocking, balancing. If he had known how to be this graceful back in Camelot he might have actually been knighted.

*****

Arthur woke as the morning light pierced through the curtains. There was a distant memory, a dream, of Merlin waking him back home in Camelot. His stupid grin, knowing full well that he was annoying Arthur, as he greeted him with an, "Up and at 'em, you lazy daisy."

The hell King Arthur would ever be called a daisy.

If any other man or woman had ever dared to attempt such a slur against him, teasing though it had been, Arthur would have likely seen them rot away in the dungeons. But with Merlin, he had groaned, thrown a pillow at the fool's face and let it slide. With Merlin, everything had been an exception he was realizing.

Stretching beneath the soft covers, Arthur took a moment to center himself, remembering where he was. When he was. While he may now be in a time with which he was unfamiliar, he wasn't fearful of it. Despite putting up a front of bravery many times, fear was known to him. Somehow in his passage of time he had sensed around the edges of reality how the world had changed. As though whatever had been keeping him asleep knew that Arthur would need to know these things when he returned. The question still hovered in front of him. Why _was_ he back?

No answer came.

His stomach rumbled. He wondered whether or not Merlin would be bringing him breakfast. Arthur frowned. He probably wouldn't. This was a different land, he was realizing, was beginning to accept. Men behaved differently here. Merlin behaved differently here. Back in Camelot Arthur had been King, expected to have servants waiting on him night and day. He had expected Merlin to wait on him day and night. True Arthur had been a warrior as well, fighting his own battles. But now that he come back? He was just Arthur and Merlin was still just Merlin.

And wasn't that a scary thought?

But now he would have to rely on himself to be, well, self-sufficient. Though a part of him was clearly hoping that Merlin would have the presence of mind to show Arthur how to actually be that. Thirty years a spoilt royal prat and over a thousand years spent in limbo, some bad habits were bound to form.

Kicking off the blanket that tangled his waist, Arthur stood, yawning. His foot didn't pain him nearly as much as it had the night before. The wrapping would have to be changed again. "Merlin?" he called out after opening the bedroom door.

No response.

Arthur frowned, shutting it. Strange. He would have thought that after so many centuries of being dead Merlin would have wanted to be as near as possible to Arthur to help him during the transition of learning the modern world. Clearly he was wrong.

Perhaps it was actually Arthur who wanted that closeness with Merlin. _Nah,_ he denied quickly. There was no reason that he would want to be close to his former manservant. No reason other than being within arm's reach to smack him upside the head.

Sighing, disappointed, he went over to the closed window. The sun had barely climbed over the tops of the trees. It was still early yet. As he was about to turn away and hunt down his own breakfast, movement caught his eye.

There in the center of the garden was Merlin. Just not Merlin as Arthur had ever seen him before. This was different. He moved as a warrior, fast and fierce. Dangerous. Muscles shifted effortlessly as his former servant fought against imagined foes with a practiced hand. After learning of his magic, this was not how Arthur would have ever dreamt seeing Merlin use a staff.

Arthur's eyes followed the movements. It wasn't as though he was unfamiliar with watching his men train. He had done so for many years, it was one of the reasons the knights of Camelot were the best. He could be there to correct them, train them, turn them into warriors under his hands. He should be completely immune to the sight of a man training. Tunic-less. But this was different. This was Merlin. This was something he had never seen his manservant before practice. Arthur's breath caught unexpectedly. He could easily see the changes that had been wrought on Merlin's physique over the years. Tan, sweat-glistened muscles moved easily with each swing of the staff. Arthur raised an impressed brow as strange kicks, almost dance like, were added to Merlin's movements.

He had been correct the night before: Merlin had changed.

And possibly, so had Arthur.

Not wanting to think exactly how he had changed, he stepped back from the window, the curtain dropping back into place. He shook his head to clear it. If only other things were so easily dismissed as his thoughts. He glared down at the erection making itself known from behind his breeches. Slowing his breath, he began counting, and tried to will it away. It was a trick he had learnt back in Camelot, it should damn well work now.

_One, two... Deep breaths, it's just Merlin..._ Eventually it subsided. There was something he would have to remember to keep to himself. For the length of his reign he had been able to hide his reaction to his manservant. He could damn well hide it now.

Deciding that he needed to get back on his proper footing with his friend, Arthur shouted. " _Merlin!"_

 


	4. Chapter Four

" _Merlin!"_

The shout started the ancient sorcerer enough that the shortened lance he was using clattered to the ground. Fearing that something heinous had happened to his king, Merlin rushed through the back door of his home. He sped through the various rooms -mud room, laundry, kitchen, study- and halted at the bottom of the stairs.

Arthur stood at the top, hands on hips, glaring down at the panicking manservant. He narrowed his eyes in a threatening manner. "Merlin. There you are. I have come to the decision that your idea that I must fend for myself is rather ridiculous. I will allow you teach me of this modern world that I find myself. Proceed."

He gestured, waving his hand as though giving leave for one of his subjects to speak freely. Merlin merely gaped at him, dumbfounded.

"You're joking." Merlin threw back his head with an aggravated shout. Stomping up the stairs, he approached Arthur, who was smart enough to start backing away. His hands shifted on their own accord, raising themselves in defense. Anger was brimming to the surface of the sorcerer. Arthur could feel it.

"Merlin, wait. I... I didn't mean..."

"No. Clearly you must be mental. No one goes around shouting like that anymore Arthur. No one commands others, unless in the army or such. Do I look like an army?" He paused briefly. Arthur opened his mouth to respond, but Merlin cut him off. "No. It may have once been my destiny to serve you Arthur, and I won't deny that it still is, but you no longer can treat me the way you once did. I will help you, because you are my friend. And frankly because I know that if I don't god only knows what trouble you'll get into. Do I make. Myself. Clear?"

The last of his tirade was emphatically expressed by Merlin poking Arthur's chest, as though doing so would make the message sink into his prat-ish skull somehow. Arthur made a face, rubbing at the spot Merlin's bony finger had dug in. " _Ow._ And yes, _Mer_ lin you've quite made your point."

An awkward pause followed as they eyed each other uneasily. Arthur cleared his throat. "Merlin. Would you mind showing me where the garderobe is hidden? I find myself in need of it."

Merlin sighed. It was likely the nicest he would be asked to do something for Arthur anytime soon. It was obviously too much to hope that his entire personality had erratically changed while being the sleeping dead within the mists of Avalon. Gesturing for his king to follow, Merlin lead him to the bathroom. With a quick demonstration of the toilet and sink, as well as dental hygiene, he left the blond alone in order to make them breakfast.

Arthur quickly made use of the facilities, even bothering to wash his hands with the bar of soap sitting beside the spout- he wasn't a complete barbarian after all. Arthur took a deep breath. Leaning on the edge of the marble top, he took in his reflection in the glass, the image sharper and clearer than any he had ever encountered within Camelot. It resulted in him having a firmer grasp of his features than ever before.

His blond hair struck out at awkward angles, the rain and muck that had attached itself the night before having done a sufficient job at hindering his appearance. More dried mud caked on his neck. Removing the shirt Merlin had given his the night before, Arthur followed the line, seeing that it went all the way down his side and back.

He was in desperate need of a bath, especially if Merlin planned to take him out into the world to get clothing and food. Arthur felt a slight tinge of trepidation rush through him at the idea of facing the modern world already. The shiver raising gooseflesh along his exposed skin. He needed more time to adjust, surely. Shoving his feelings aside, Arthur scoped out the rest of the small water closet. No, _bathroom_. That's what Merlin had named it. He had yet to see a tub large enough to hold him in Merlin's dwelling. The room was similar in size to Merlin's old chambers back in Camelot. Other than the sink and toilet, there was a linen closet that Arthur didn't bother peering into. What took up most of the space was behind a clay colored, tiled partition. Frosted windows allowed for sunlight to creep into the room and reflect off the mirror. A flat silver disc with a multitude of small holes hung from the ceiling. Against the wall were handles similar to the ones next to the spigot of the sink he had just used.

Arthur wasn't a simpleton by any means. He wouldn't have been able to rule Camelot if he had been. He stripped the remainder of his clothing and stepped into the space. The handle were simple, no marking adorned them. Steering clear of what he assumed to be the spout he turned one slowly. Water poured out of the disc in a steady fall. He tested the water with the tips of his fingers. Ice cold. He turned the other handle, a wrinkle of concentration on his brow as he learned to adjust the temperature of the water.

Settling for a pleasing warmth, Arthur ducked under the spray. The mud washed off of his body, running down in murky brown rivulets and spiraling down a drain by his feet. _This was sinful,_ he thought, running his hands through his hair. Spying black bottle on the ledge of the half wall, the king grabbed it, curious as to its contents. "Shampoo and body wash?" Arthur read aloud, unsurprised at this point that he could understand this modern language.

It took a moment to open the container, the small lip of the lid was deceiving. Pouring a large handful, he applied it to the top of his head, intent on working his way down his body.

****

Yelling at his king probably wasn't the brightest idea he could have had that morning. But the royal _arse_ already got on Merlin's last nerve, and he had only been awake for what? All of an hour? Undead for a day? Merlin's thought's took a sour turn as he plopped the last of the bread into the toaster. He had a penchant for eating at the local tavern and restaurants for the past decade and didn't stock his own shelves the way he probably should. They would have to get more to eat that morning while they were out. He shook his head at his own foolishness. Even now, hundreds of years later, Merlin still foregone his own meals in favor of his king.

Even when he was being a royal _prat_.

Merlin stared blindly out the kitchen window, waiting for the toast to pop back up. His mind was on that day so long ago when he had held his king in his arms, knowing that he wouldn't see him again. At that point Merlin hadn't known that he was immortal but he had known that Arthur would return. He never once thought that he would still be around to see that fateful day.

But then as time passed, he noticed that even though he aged in body, his mind and soul felt young, though incredibly bruised and broken at the loss of his king. As though untouched by time itself. Then he had reversed aging for the first time, long after the knights and Gwen had passed on, and he knew. He knew he would have to wait for Arthur to return. He knew that he _could_ wait for Arthur to return.

But now that he had, Merlin was half tempted to toss the tosser back.

Lost in his thoughts he was startled out of his reverie as two things happened simultaneously.

The toast popped up with a loud _ding_.

And Arthur screamed.

Merlin raced back upstairs, footsteps pounding up the old stairwell. He had no idea at what could have happened in the last ten minutes that would cause his king to scream but it didn't stop him from entering the bathroom in all haste. "Arthur! What is it? Are you okay?"

It took half a second for him to realize the room was full of steam from the shower, and another half to realize that his king was _naked in said shower._

"No I am not alright, you half-wit. I'm blind. Why do you have potions to cause such painful blindness just sitting about?" Arthur shouted, gesturing to the shampoo bottle. "Dammit, Merlin, come over here and un-blind me!"

The clotpole had gotten soap in his eyes.

Sending out a silent prayer, Merlin stepped into the shower. He directed Arthur to tilt his head back under the water and leave his eyes shut. Helping remove the soap, Merlin asked, amused. "How much of the shampoo did you actually use?"

Arthur gestured to the size of his fist. Merlin laughed. "Idiot."

Merlin continued to run his hands through Arthur's now thoroughly washed hair, making certain that all the shampoo was out. He had probably used half the bottle. Arthur opened his eyes. They widened at seeing how close his manservant stood to his naked form. He stood mere inches away. Water coursed down his naked chest and down to his trousers. The material clung to his legs and..er, _other_ areas. Arthur swallowed.

Trying to regain some of his formed famed composure, Arthur cleared his throat and shoved Merlin's hands away. He had taken to massaging the king's scalp in those last moments. And while it had felt incredibly good, it had felt incredibly _good._ He hadn't wanted his servant to see exactly how good he thought it. Turning back around, he clipped out. "You should bathe as well, Merlin. We have a long day of visiting this modern world and I don't want to have to put up with your stench."

Merlin rolled his eyes. He remained under the spray, ignoring the fact that his sweats were soaked all the way through. Arthur stepped out of the shower, grabbing a nearby towel to dry himself. "Yes, _sire."_

The second Arthur left the room, Merlin changed the water to frigid to tamp down his overheated body.

Arthur was right. It was going to be a long day.

 


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who does keep up with this and my utter sporadic updates.  
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated and they definitely keep me writing. (And writing faster)  
> Gabi  
> <3<3<3

Arthur's first trip out into the 21st century had been excruciating.

Just not for Arthur.

Merlin rubbed at his temples, fighting off his growing headache. Between Arthurs endless queries about nearly everything that he spotted, whether it be pavement to lampposts to the neighbor walking both their dog and child, and his near child-like enthusiasm for even the simplest of modern conveniences had left Merlin depleted. At least his king had had the good sense to voice his questions at a low volume.

"Is it normal to have a lead rope on a child, Merlin?"

"Does someone come around every night to light these posts?"

"Why is no one paying attention to the fool talking to himself?"

Merlin wasn't about to explain what a _Bluetooth_ was to the ancient king. A man had been clearly arguing with a coworker over his headset loudly, taking expected pauses as the person on the other end argued their point. Unfortunately the man had been blocking the entrance into the food store when Merlin and Arthur had arrived, drawing the warrior's attention. Thinking fast, Merlin diverted his attention to the produce section and the foods his king had never before seen.

Merlin hadn't been able to say no to each of Arthur's requests to try the varieties the store held. His Black Amex was certainly going to get a workout at the stores today, that was for certain. By the time they had finished purchasing enough food to feed all of the knights of Camelot let alone Arthur and Merlin for a few weeks, the warlock was utterly spent. After setting the bags into the boot of the car, Merlin waved slightly at it, sending the groceries home to rest in their proper places. Call Merlin lazy but it was easier than going all the way home, putting them away, then making yet another trek out into the world. He needed to get Arthur situated with the basics fast before they tried to work out why he had returned.

They then moved on to finding clothing fit for a king. Or, you know, Arthur. The endless questions hadn't stopped once they reached the clothing shop. The king's inquiries becoming a low buzzing in the background, a white noise filter that Merlin hadn't anticipated needing. For centuries he would have given anything to be able to hear his King speak once more.

Now what he wouldn't give to get him to shut up.

"Sire, do you remember how you once said I prattled?" Merlin asked through the partition of the dressing room. The burgundy curtain fluttered as Arthur bumped into it. Merlin had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. All he could see of Arthur was one foot balancing precariously as he tried to remove a pair of skinny jeans Merlin had picked out.

"Pretty sure it was more than once that I stated that _Mer_ lin." Arthur groused, tossing the devil slacks to the side. He pulled on another pair of black trousers that his manservant had picked for him from the large pile on the bench instead. They seemed far looser than the first pair in any regard.

"Yes, well. I'm pretty sure you've taken up that mantle, sire." Merlin snorted. His eyes met with one of the associates folding down a nearby table. She threw him a questioning look at his use of the title. He probably should temper the use of the title while out in public. He met her gaze with a self-deprecating shrug. "Just a moniker. Inside joke."

Unconvinced, the woman pursed her lips and stepped away.

"Did you say something _Mer_ lin?" With a broad, dramatic wave, Arthur swept open the red curtain, the brass connecters scraped on the bar at the movement. It material shifted behind him wildly, tangled by an unfelt wind. Merlin's breath caught. In a millisecond he was back in Camelot, watching Arthur standing at the round table, red cape draping his shoulders, encasing the king the way nothing else could.

Merlin blinked, sending the memory away. In front of him stood Arthur, dressed in black jeans and a red henley. The warlock smirked at the outfit. A couple thousand years go by and Arthur still dressed the same. Not that Merlin would argue with the combination, Arthur always stood out in red.

Arthur always stood out.

"Nothing, Arthur," Merlin sighed.

"Talking to yourself again?" Teasingly, Arthur clasped a hand on his servants shoulder. He needed to do something to bring his manservant out of this perpetual sour mood he was in. Arthur didn't like it. The only times he had seen Merlin this way was after battle, after losing favored knights, and from what he could tell Merlin hadn't lost anyone recently. Surely he hadn't been feeling like this since Arthur had died?

Arthur had seen how some of his knights and his father's had changed after their brothers in arm had fallen, had seen the spiral of anger and morose. Some came out of it, returned to battle. Some didn't. Had Merlin been like this for centuries? Or had he gone through stages where he had embraced living and been happy, even for a moment? His gut clenched at the thought of Merlin being unhappy, remember the young man he had once been with a foolish smile attached to his face.

Arthur wanted to bring that smile back.

"No. I'm talking to a clotpole, you clotpole," Merlin shoved at his hand.

"Still not a word."

"It's been centuries Arthur. It's a word now."

"I highly doubt it, you girl's petticoat." Teasingly, Arthur threw an arm around Merlin's neck, messing his hair playfully.

Merlin broke free, smacking him away. "You're still a prat."

They paid for their purchases, eventually deciding to head out to Merlin's car. They were laden down with the weight of bags upon bags of underclothes, shoes, pants, shirts, jumpers and coats that slowed them down only slightly. There were a few new items for Merlin included as well. Just a few items that could easily remind Arthur that Merlin was no longer a servant. In this land they were equals.

Equals who were equally exhausted from shopping.

"How is it, Merlin," Arthur started, hiding a yawn into his shoulder. "How is it that I am just as tired, if not more so, from _shopping_ , as I would be from a day of intensive training with my knights?"

Merlin grunted, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. It had been centuries since he had felt this drained as well. At least not since he had finished building his home by hand. Five hundred (?) years ago. Or was it three hundred? He couldn't remember in all honesty, but he knew it had been a long time. "I'm not cooking tonight."

Arthur snorted at his manservants abrupt change of subject. "Well, I'm certainly not about to use your bewitched kitchen."

He grinned at the put upon eyeroll he got in return.

"It's a standard kitchen, Arthur. But no I don't want you in there either. I'm thinking chicken curry. And if you don't like it, you can fend for yourself when we get home." Merlin clenched at the leather steering wheel.

The former king thankfully remained silent for the duration of ordering and picking up the takeaway. He sat quietly against the leather seating that was far more comfortable than anything they had had in Camelot. He lost himself in thought as they drove down the winding back roads towards Merlin's home. He saw buildings and machines, the likes of which he could have never imagined in his wildest dreams. He watched as parents ignored their children for the phones (which Merlin had briefly explained) in their hands. He watched as the same children ignored the beauty of nature right in front of them in favor of their own devices held in their small hands. How had the world changed so much, where families turned away from the people they should love and protect? When had people stopped caring for one another?

"Merlin?" he softly asked the man beside him. Arthur didn't want him distracted while driving the vehicle. He wasn't trusting of them just quite yet.

Eyes never once leaving the road, Merlin hummed. He responded automatically, though his thoughts remained fixed on the dinner boxes in the back seat. "Yes Arthur?"

Taking a deep breath, he shifted in his seat to face his friend. "What happened to them?"

"To who?" Merlin blinked, shooting a glance at Arthur. This was Serious Arthur. This was the Arthur who had to prepare to face a foe, knowing he might not like how it ended. This was the Arthur that only Merlin, and maybe Gwen, ever saw.

"Everyone, Merlin. What happened to Gwen and the my knights? Leon, Gwaine, and Percival? Gaius? To Camelot, Merlin. What happened to my people? What became of them after... After I died?"

His voice was thick with emotion he couldn't very well hide. Arthur knew he didn't have to, it was just Merlin after all, but he needed to know.

Merlin looked over sadly at his king. Sighing deeply, he said firmly. "Wait until we get back home, Arthur. If you can wait until we get back, I will explain everything."


End file.
